Wounded Beast
by Kenna Monster
Summary: Agron is injured while they flee the Romans, leaving the others the task of caring for him.
1. Chapter 1

**[A/N : Just a little Agron whumpage to help get everyone through the week!] **

Agron was used to suffering. When he was ten his parents were slaughtered and entire village destroyed by conquering Romans who then took him and his brother into captivity, selling them numerous times as they constantly defied their masters orders. Then Duro was killed trying to save him, and whatever faint glimmer of hope he had been clinging to was quickly vanquished.

Joining Spartacus was a simple decision. Of course he would fight for his freedom and those still bound to slavery under the heel of Rome. He would do whatever it took to bring the empire to its knees.

Yet as he was shackled to a wall and whipped his thoughts turned from comrades to another. Nasir. If his death would bring about Nasir's safety and long life then he would die a thousand times. He just wished the gods would allow him one more chance to see his lover before he faded from this life, but they remained ever silent.

"I never would have guessed to find you in such lowly circumstances," a familiar voice said, shaking Agron from his thoughts. He forced his eyes open, blinking dazedly at the blurry figure standing beside him.

"Hello brother," Duro smiled.

"My mind tortures me," Agron whispered, staring at his brother in confusion.

Duro shook his head. "I've been sent to offer you comfort."

"Comfort?" Agron asked.

"You pray to see Nasir again. A noble wish. But if it remains ungranted, I would escort you to the afterlife," Duro explained.

Agron closed his eyes, trying to breathe through the pain. "The gods continue to piss on us mortals. I am to choose between my brother and my love?"

"A tough decision to be made. Though the blood seeping from wounds would speed delivery."

"I don't want to leave him," Agron pleaded, looking at his brother. "Please, do not ask this of me. I cannot choose."

"You must, before it is decided for you," Duro said. Agron let his head droop, the pain in his back worsening. His brother was right. He would not survive long, and if given opportunity would it not be better to slip away before pain became unbearable? His thoughts kept turning to Nasir as he drifted into darkness.

* * *

"He is not long for this world."

"Spartacus would have him saved."

"Help me with him!"

A sudden intense, white hot burning tore through his arms as he was unshackled and lowered to the ground. Someone leaned him forward until he rested in a sitting position, then began examining his wounds. Agron cried out, struggling away from the attackers.

"Agron, be calm!" Crixus shouted, grabbing Agron's face between his hands and forcing the delirious man to look at him. "We are here to help.

"We must go, do you think yourself able to stand?" Gannacus asked. Agron blinked, staring past him at the clear blue sky overhead. He had survived against all odds. Perhaps Duro was wrong and he was meant to live but a bit longer.

Crixus glanced at Gannacus, their worry growing. It was out of character for the German to remain silent, and both were amazed he still drew breath. When they had entered the villa they'd expected to find him and the other prisoners already killed. Instead they were greeted with a most gruesome sight of their comrade hanging from chains, blood splattering the stones at his feet.

"Let us be gone from this accursed place," Gannacus said, helping Crixus pull Agron to his feet. The giant swayed, weak and shaky. He would've fallen if not for the support offered by the two gladiators.

"We return to Spartacus," Crixus said to the others as they began walking through the gate and into the woods. Most of the others were shaken but unharmed, and soon the temple lay within sight.

"I fear he weakens as we near the threshold," Gannacus said. Agron stumbled between them, barely able to continue placing one foot in front of the other. Whatever source drove him forward, it was a tenuous bond.

Cheers and shouts filled the air as rescued prisoners were greeted by friends upon entry to the temple. Crixus spotted Naevia and Spartacus standing on the steps and led Agron to them.

"What barbarism is this?" Spartacus asked, rushing forward to help ease Agron onto a nearby cot.

"They whipped him as a means of loosening his tongue," Crixus explained, stepping back as Naevia stripped away the remnants of Agron's tattered shirt to reveal a myriad of patchwork slices across his back from the whip, and on his chest a deep cut stretching across his ribs.

"Yet the others remain untarnished," Gannacus added. "They speak of how Agron refused to let pain sway him from our cause. He never uttered a word except the name Duro."

Spartacus looked at his friend, brows pulled together in anger and concern. "His brother, struck down by Romans on the eve of our escape from Capua."

"Agron!" Nasir shouted, pushing past them to fall to his lover's side. He stroked his cheek, wishing to see those clear green eyes yet once more.

"How do you always manage to return him to me wounded?" He demanded, expression turned sour by the sight of his lover's blood.

"I returned him to you as promised," Crixus said. Nasir pursed his lips, inspecting the wounds. "Apologies for his state."

"These injuries will take time to heal," Naevia said, looking up at Crixus. "Bring water and clean cloth." He nodded, slipping from the room.

"You stubborn fool," Nasir whispered, closing his eyes. He had heard the tale as he slipped through the crowd. Agron was a hero for his bravery and strength. But seeing his lover brought so low made Nasir ache to kill every last Roman. But until that time came, he would patch the wounds they'd inflicted and offer condolences while Agron slowly healed.

* * *

Agron's head pounded, the incessant pain beating in time with his pulse. Slowly he opened his eyes, momentarily confused as to where he was. He was laid on his stomach, head turned to face the nearest wall. With a fair amount of struggling he was able to prop himself up on his elbows and glance around, surprised to see it was already midday by the bright sun shining.

The sound of clanging steel and shouts drove him to his feet and stumbling out into the yard where the others were training. As he slowly gained his bearings memories rushed back of being captured and beaten before sweet rescue. He scanned the crowd, searching for comrades.

"He's more dead than living," Gannacus said to Spartacus, nodding in the direction of Agron. They made their way to him, rushing forward when he stumbled.

"You should not yet be up," Spartacus said, attempting to help Agron back to bed but he resisted.

"I must find Nasir," he argued.

"He's hunting with Crixus and Naevia, they shall return soon," Gannacus replied. "He was over keen to not leave your side until persuaded."

Agron shook his head. "I have to find him."

"You are not well," Spartacus insisted, he and Gannacus forcefully aiding Agron to a chair where he slumped, head dropping forward into weak hands.

At that moment Nasir, Naevia and Crixus returned with a buck strung over Crixus' shoulders. The crowd cheered at the sight of fresh meat.

Nasir spotted Agron and rushed to him. "Agron? Are you well?"

"Stubborn fool refused to stay in bed," Gannacus said. Nasir knelt in front of Agron, lifting his chin until he gazed into unfocused eyes.

"How do you feel?" He asked.

Agron blinked slowly. "Tired."

"Let us return you to bed," Spartacus suggested, helping Agron to his feet. Once he was resting Nasir laid a damp cloth over his forehead, worry growing as Agron drifted into a fitful sleep.

"How fares he?" Crixus asked as he and Naevia joined the group, the smell of cooking meat wafting after them.

"He burns with fever," Nasir replied, inspecting the wound on Agron's ribs. Unlike those on his back which would heal slowly it was inflamed and hot to the touch.

"I will go gather herbs," Naevia said, hurrying from the room.

Through the night Nasir and Naevia stayed by Agron's side, monitoring his fever and doing what they could to aid him. What little herbs and bandages they had were no means for treating infection, a thought that constantly circled Nasir's mind as he watched over his love.


	2. Chapter 2

At first light Crixus entered the chamber, moved by the sight of Naevia and Nasir slumped in nearby chairs beside Agron's bed. Both had obviously fallen asleep while tending to their injured friend.

"My love," Crixus murmured, placing a gentle hand upon Naevia's shoulder. She stirred, awakening when she saw him.

"Is it truly morning?" She asked, standing up.

Crixus nodded. "The gods bless us with another day. How is he?"

Naevia turned, brow drawn together as she looked down at the man lying before them. "His fever refuses to break and now weakens what little strength he has left. I fear he will not survive for much longer."

Crixus pulled her to him, resting his chin on top of her head. "I do not bet on a fever being able to diminish Agron's will to fight. We must simply aid him."

"The supply of needed herbs grows low, without replenishing we won't offer any aid," Naevia said.

"Then take Nasir and a few guards to the woods and procure what we need," Crixus said, the two of them breaking apart to gaze at each other. "I will stay by Agron's side until your return."

"You promise not to leave him nor let him slip from this world?" Nasir asked, startling companions who had thought him still sleeping.

Crixus nodded. "I swear on my sword, he will not leave my sight."

Naevia reached out her hand to Nasir who grasped it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet and ushered from the room. Crixus took Naevia's vacant seat, preparing for a long day.

"Where do Naevia and Nasir head?" Spartacus asked as he and Gannacus entered the room.

"In search of more herbs to help Agron," Crixus replied, glancing at them before turning back to the younger man. A fine sheen of sweat lay upon his brow and his cheeks shone with rosy light.

"If I were but able to take his place I would," Spartacus murmured, placing hand upon friend's chest and gladly feeling the rise and fall heralding breath.

"He yet lives," Gannacus said. "A miracle of itself. He continues to piss at the gods."

Crixus allowed himself a small smile. "Be thankful he is our comrade not enemy, for his wrath is something to behold."

"Coupled with his inability for patience or calm words makes him a true asset," Spartacus added.

"If we but had two of him," Gannacus said.

Spartacus paused. "We did once."

Crixus gazed at the German, remembering the moment vividly. He had been near when Duro died in Agron's arms, the elder brother's cry of pain and sorrow disrupting battle. Soldiers then turned their attentions to him which gave the gladiators opportunity to make striking blows.

Agron stirred. Crixus leaned forward to greet green eyes when the younger man whimpered, a sound of pain and fear escaping his lips. "Duro," he groaned.

"Agron?" Crixus asked, gently shaking his shoulder with no response.

"He is caught in a fever dream," Spartacus explained as Agron whimpered yet again, his eyes closing. Crixus took the pitcher and doused a cloth with water, placing it on his forehead in offering of help.

"Duro," Agron groaned, tossing weakly. "I'm sorry."

"His brother?" Gannacus asked. Crixus nodded.

"No wonder he fights so wildly, with no thought of injury or concern," said Gannacus as Agron tossed again, eyes flashing wildly behind closed lids.

"There must be more we can do," Spartacus said, hating the feeling of uselessness.

"I promised I would stay with him, you two should go continue training the others. We will be a pathetic army if we face the Romans tomorrow," Crixus said.

"Let us know if anything changes," Spartacus said, looking at Agron one last time before leading Gannacus from the room.

Crixus settled into the routine of soothing Agron whenever he stirred, constantly rewetting the cloth placed upon his brow in hopes of easing the fever that held him so tight. After a while Agron's cries for his brother became fewer and fewer until at last he lay silent, occasionally shivering while the fever raged.

"Be strong my friend," murmured Crixus. He knew Agron was slipping nearer and nearer to the void which would ensnare him and never let go. But if he wished to return to them, it was his fight. He had to make the choice to stay alive.

"How is he?" Nasir asked, rushing into the room. He clutched handfuls of herbs which he quickly threw on the table before kneeling beside his lover.

"He grows silent," Crixus replied, looking at Naevia as she began crushing the ingredients for her concoction. She frowned, eyebrows drawn down in worry.

"Agron, open your eyes," Nasir pleaded. But the man remained unconscious, oblivious to the calls from his friends.

"This might help," Naevia said, beginning to smear great globs of her poultice onto his wound. "It will help draw out the infection which should lower his fever."

"Let us hope the gods wish to return him to us," Crixus said as he stood up, offering Nasir his seat.

"Fuck the gods," Nasir said, taking Agron's hand in his and clutching it tightly. Naevia led Crixus from the room.

"There is not much else I can do," she said as they stood in the hall, heads bent close together for fear of Nasir overhearing them.

"Agron is strong and stubborn. He will not let the Romans or the gods tell him when it is his time. And it will not be today," Crixus said, taking her face in his hands. "You have done all you can. Let us rest, I am sure we will be needed before this night is over."

* * *

Nasir was unaware of how long he sat watch over his love, fearful any moment would be Agron's last. He'd momentarily improved after Naevia placed the poultice on his wound, but soon after his breaths began to falter and grow shallow. Nasir sat by refusing to allow his own fatigue or hunger to sway him. He had to be there when Agron would awake.

"You should get some rest," Gannacus suggested, standing in the doorway.

"I will not leave him," Nasir replied.

Gannacus entered the room, taking the vacant seat beside Nasir. "You are of no good to him half dead yourself."

Nasir shook his head. "I will be fine."

"At least go get food and wine," Gannacus said. Nasir glanced at him, the mention of food making him realize how starved he truly was.

Gannacus pressed his advantage. "I will stay with him."

Nasir caved, standing up. "I will be quick." Gannacus watched Nasir hurry from the room before turning back to Agron, wondering if he would ever find a love as strong as those two had for each other. Willing to risk life and limb for one another and refusing to allow sleep to come between them. Seeing such devotion was encouraging, yet sparked a longing in Gannacus for a relationship to rival theirs.

"Nas'r..." Agron whispered, voice weak.

"Agron? Can you hear me?" Gannacus asked, leaning forward.

"Where's...Nas'r?" He asked, blinking slowly.

"I am here!" Nasir exclaimed as he rushed to the bed, food and wine shoved at Gannacus without second thought.

"Wha happn'd?" Agron asked, words slightly slurred.

Nasir smiled. "You were being brave once again."

Agron coughed weakly, closing his eyes. "Being...foolish."

"That is not what the other captives claimed," Gannacus chimed in. "They say of how you willingly allowed yourself to be whipped in place of them."

"Your bravery is legend," Spartacus said, walking into the room.

Agron shook his head. "M'not brave."

"I would argue that," Nasir said, taking his hand. "Though I am glad to have you returned to me."

"Have I...been gone?" Agron asked in confusion. Everything was a bit hazy. He remembered being tortured then rescued and later feeling ill, but after that his memory failed him.

"Not long," Nasir replied. "And you are back now."

"How do you feel?" Spartacus asked.

"As if I have been walking through a desert," Agron replied. "My body heavy and thoughts slow."

Gannacus nodded. "It is the fever. It will pass."

"You feel cooler," Nasir said, placing his hand on Agron's forehead. The German closed his eyes and turned his head into the touch.

"Do my eyes deceive me?" Crixus asked as he entered the room with Naevia. "You yet live!"

Agron smiled faintly at them. "I do."

"It is good to see you awake," Naevia said.

"The others will rejoice," Spartacus agreed.

"Perhaps the gods favor you after all," teased Crixus. "Or they realize just how hard you are to kill."

"Both are fine with me," Agron replied. He smiled at his friends, beginning to feel better already. He was ready to face the Romans again, and knew no matter what the cost that they'd defeat the empire and bring it to its knees.


End file.
